


❛ grenadine sunshine ❜

by thehyades



Series: Marion [1]
Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, I promise its there looll, M/M, POV Outsider, Post-Canon, scho and blake if u squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23032159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehyades/pseuds/thehyades
Summary: ❛❛ What have you seen? She wants to ask. What did you have to do to come back to us? ❜❜Or the war finally, mercifully ends and Schofield makes it home to his sister and nieces.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Series: Marion [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660747
Comments: 10
Kudos: 103





	❛ grenadine sunshine ❜

**Author's Note:**

> title is from 'bel air' by my wife, lana del rey. this fic is written from marion's pov (scho's older sister's pov, bc the woman and children in that pic were his sister and nieces okay?). this is part of the 'wayfaring strangers' fic i wrote. a kind of epilogue but not really lmaoo? 
> 
> oh and will, tom and joe's ranks are higher in this cause it's at the end of the war and my babies deffo climbed up the ranks.
> 
> aaaand jodie comer as scho's sister's face claim, okay i'll shut up now x

**December 9th, 1918**

**F** inally, mercifully, the war ends and he comes back to them. Of course he does. If anyone can come back from the greatest war in the history of this forsaken world then it's William Schofield. She didn't know what she expected but she certainly didn't expect her brother to return with _friends_. 

It's a snowy day in December when Marion finishes her weekly meeting with the other Suffragettes.

Mrs. Earwood, the Housekeeper, is in the lobby to greet her upon stepping back into the house. 

Emmeline is frustrated at the snow as she worries the public are forgetting about the Suffragettes already without regular marches but there is nothing that can be done in this weather except wait. Marion waited four years for the war to end and it has finally happened. She waited for her husband to return as well and each time she remembers the Battle of Verdun that took him, she swears she can feel the bullet that ended his life, end hers too. 

The world has felt mad and empty as of late. Is there much to salvage after this war?

“Cold, is it, my lady?” Mrs. Earwood asks with that small smile as Marion shivers.

Marion lets out a soft chuckle and passes her snow covered petticoat to Mrs. Earwood. All of London has been buried in relentless snow in the last few weeks and it shows no signs of stopping. Marion opens her mouth to ask where the twins are when she notices the sound of chatter coming from the salon. 

“Who is that?” She asks, “do we have visitors?”

It's quite rude to drop into another's home without warning. She marches down the narrow hallway into the salon, wondering who could have such appalling manners as to simply barge into —

Marion freezes, her heart stalling in her chest. Sitting in the armchair with the twins laughing in his lap is — is _Will._ Her baby brother dressed in a white shirt and suspenders, looking healthy and handsome as he tickles the twins at the same time. He looks up, his caramel brown hair falling into his eyes. Deep blue meets dark brown. He got their father’s eyes, always so cautious and patient. 

The twins hop off his lap and run to Marion, hugging her legs as they excitedly squeal about their uncle’s return. Marion’s moving without realising it, Will stands up and meets her half way in a tight hug. Cora and Charlotte are running around them now. She holds him tight, tight enough to worry if he can even breathe but she doesn't care because she needs to feel he is real. His body is solid and strong and he smells good, like black plum and leather. Some part of her was worried he would return stinking of the war, of mud and death. She could trick herself into thinking he has just come back from a holiday in France but she would never dismiss his days in the war. They are part of him now.

When they pull apart, Marion is crying and cupping Will’s face, her dark eyes scanning every inch of his face to check that it’s really him — it’s really her brother. He's gotten taller, she has to look up at him now, there is a scar above his right eyebrow, just months old but apart from that he looks good. The mixture of surprise and relief swimming in his eyes tells her he cannot believe she is here either.

“Will,” she breathes, “you came back.”

He nods, his large hands gripping her wrists now, “Of course, I did.”

“He came back with friends!” Charlotte shouts somewhere behind them. 

Marion blinks. Friends? She lets go of Will and looks around, pausing when she sees a pair of handsome men standing by the fireplace. They look similar, the same curly dark hair, the same square jaw and charming smiles. Except the one in the smart suit has a beard and he looks older. Despite being younger, the other one stands with a cane. Perhaps it is the consequence of a war wound. It's amazing any of them came back with all their limbs let alone their lives. She wonders if there is an injury on Will she missed. She will ask the nurse to check him over later.

Will clears his throat and introduces his friends.

“Marion, this is Captain Joseph Blake,” Will says, gesturing to the older man. The man’s smile widens as he bows, “and this is his brother,” she is scared the younger man is going to try and bow too but luckily, he just offers a bright smile. “Sergeant Thomas Blake. They served with me.”

“Oh, c’mon, Scho,” the older man, Captain Blake says with a scoff, “the war’s over, enough with the titles. You don't go round introducing yourself as Sergeant Major Schofield, do you?" He walks over to Marion, that smile of his making her nervous for some reason, “please, call me, Joe.”

Marion wipes her tears away, laughs and puts her hand out. “Marion, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Joe.”

He takes her hand and places his mouth to the back of her hands. She should not be able to feel it but she does, the warmth leaks through her gloves and rushes into her. She pulls her hand away with Joe still smiling. Marion looks away and clears her throat. She walks over to his younger brother with her hand out too. Up close, she sees another way they differ. Joe’s eyes are green eyes, this Sergeant’s are a pale shade of blue. 

“Pleasure to meet you too, Sergeant,” she says. 

“Tom,” he says giving her hand a firm shake, “please call me Tom. My brother’s right, the war’s over. We’re no longer soldiers.”

"Tom."

Marion smiles but she wonders how much of the last part is true. Over the years she has seen some of the men who have returned, their gazes are empty and when they speak, it doesn't seem as if there are with you at all. You have the odd, unnerving sensation they are reliving those days in the rotten trenches. You can see it play out in their vacant eyes. 

She doesn't see that emptiness in Tom’s eyes. In some men she sees gunfire and muddy fields, in his she only sees a calm seascape of blue waters. In the midst of war, he found peace. It is a spectacular sight to behold. She likes him already.

A thought occurs. Did they travel here from the front together?

Marion spins around, turning back to Will. “Hold on,” she says, clasping her hands together, “armistice was signed almost a month ago, when did you return home?”

Will’s eyes flit away, a faint grimace pulling at his mouth. “Three weeks ago,” he says, glancing back at her, “but listen—”

“Three weeks?” She cuts in, “what—where have you been? Why did you not say anything?”

She marches over to him, making him walk back until he hits the bookshelf. 

“I — I stayed with Tom and Joe’s family in Essex,” he says, waving his hands about, “I’m sorry, I—” he lowers his voice as his dark blue eyes search hers, “I needed sometime to collect myself. I wasn’t in the right state to come see you or the girls. Marion, I needed time.”

In some men she sees gunfire and muddy fields, in his she sees the war begin and end in an infinite loop. Yet, he is not one of those vacant men. He is both here and back in battle. Pain lives him in now and the boy who left for war all those years ago has died. It is a spectacular sight to behold. She faces a man built by bloodshed and despair.

_What have you seen?_ She wants to ask. _What did you have to do to come back to us?_

She sighs, sorrow swarming in her chest like a storm. Grief strikes her then too, bleak grief for the life her brother could have had, for the life she could have had with her late husband. She wonders if Lawrence would have the war festering in him too if he had survived. She doesn't think she could take it. She can't take it now. 

“Marion?” Will says gently when she has not said anything for a while. 

She looks at him. It doesn't matter what shape the war has left him in. All that matter is that he came back to them. 

“I’m fine,” she says, placing a hand on his arm. 

She squeezes it and turns around to face the Blake brothers. 

Joe is looking at her with a look of concern but Tom’s gaze is focused on Will behind her. He wears a soft, yearning expression and it tugs at her heartstrings. It's so familiar, she has seen that look elsewhere but she cannot seem to remember exactly where. Will gazes back at Tom with the same look, it is a lot fainter but it is there if you know what to look for. It’s in the curve of the smile, the twinkle in the eye. She has seen that look before, she is sure of it. 

Charlotte shatters the silence  when she jumps up and tugs at Marion’s dress. “Mama,” she says, “mama, I’m hungry, isn’t food ready yet?”

Marion blinks, reality crashes back into her, “yes, yes, of course.” She clasps her hands together and presents a graceful smile, “do stay for supper, won’t you?”

Joe and Tom glance at each other, a whole conversation passing between micro-expressions before they turn back to her. 

“It’ll be our pleasure,” Joe says with a curt nod. 

Tom looks back at Will with that soft expression. Where has she seen that look before? Why does it drag up freshly buried heartache? It sends her to a time that feels like an old fairy tale. The prince and princess, the tower and the dragon that spits bone splitting bullets. 

A hand lands on her shoulder, she starts and looks up to find Joe closer than ever, watching her with that look of concern. He has lovely eyes, green like the countryside on a summer’s day. 

“Marion?” He says, his proximity and his deep voice send heat beating into her body, reddening her cheeks. 

Lord, she is behaving like a schoolgirl. She straightens up, lifting her chin up slightly. “Yes, pardon, I'm just taking it all in. Excuse me, I’m going to tell the cook to get supper finished.” 

She offers them all a smile before she walks out of the salon with her daughters chittering as they trail behind her. 

* * 

Dinner is filling and filled with general chatter on the Blakes brothers’ farm in Essex. The nanny feeds Cora and Charlotte in their rooms as Marion wants some alone time with her brother, Joe and Tom. Will does not contribute much to the conversation, he simply eats and listens with a happy contentedness about him. 

Sometimes Tom looks at Will or Will looks at Tom and both will exchange the most delicate of smiles, like a warm acknowledgement between them, before returning to the conversation. The sight makes her heartache again. It is the kind of ache brought on by love and love lost. Only pictures of Lawrence make her heart hurt like that anymore but something about Tom and Will calls it to rise and crash like a stormy sea. 

She learns Tom and Joe have a beautiful orchard at home and a fully grown litter of St. Bernards. She learns Will has a job working for the local paper, he starts this weekend. She learns Tom will be moving down to London in the new year, there are not many jobs in Essex and he fancies a change. Tom and Will exchange that look when he says the last part and her heart aches again. She is taken back to hers and Lawrence’s summer in Cornwall before the twins arrived, to the rolling beaches, to Lawrence’s red hair dancing in the wind as he ran to the top of the hill, to his stunning smile and heat of his kiss when he pulled her in. 

The clink of a glass yanks her back to the present. The men have all raised their glasses and they look at Marion, waiting for her expectantly.

Gold rings glisten in the twinkling chandelier light. One ring belongs to Tom, it sits on his middle finger, and the other ring belongs to Will, it sits on his pinky. She clutches her chest. The heartache threatens to stop her breath now. She understands — she understands now, why the war haunts Will but it hasn't emptied him out. In the midst of war, he found love.

What kind of love she isn't certain but he’s here now, she has time to figure it out. Whatever kind, it does not matter, she could burst with happiness for him.

Marion grabs her cup and raises it up.

“To travelling far,” Joe says with a dimple-indented smile that captivates her, “and coming home again.”

“To travelling far,” Marion, Will, Tom and Joe repeat as they clink their glasses together, “and coming home again."


End file.
